Dealing With Lust and the Double
by vbkm
Summary: After much deliberation on which scene to write, here is my rendition of Ian and Aras from "Palindrome"


Aras strolled into the grand living room and gave it a once over. She whistled as if impressed with the size of it. Still awaiting a reaction from Ian, who was caught up in "Son of the Sheik" playing on the screen in front of him, she cleared her throat.

"Are you Ian Nottingham?" she finally asked. She was curious just who it was that had called her here telling her he had information she would be interested in.

"Yes, Aras. And, though you don't realize it, I know you."

"Is that so?"

"I know you very well," he added, enjoying the banter already starting with this…palindrome of _his_ Sara.

"Hmmm," she mused. "Who is Sara? What is the Witchblade…And how do you know so much about these things?" 

Ian rose from the great throne and turned around to see Aras face-to-face. His glance lingered down and then back up her. The resemblance was extremely remarkable. She lowered her shades to give him an equal once over in return.

"Are you quite sure you want to know?" Ian asked.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." Aras reminded him.

She walked closer to Nottingham. Aras reached out to touch his lapel. He immediately grabbed her hand before she could. They both chuckled for their own, different reasons. Ian at the thought of this woman believing he would let her have her way. Aras at the thought of this strange man obviously wanting so much to be in control.

"Please…sit down," Ian requested. "There's much I have to tell you. But first," he warned, "you have to cancel your plans for this evening."

Aras looked to him, "What plans?" she asked, informing him she had already anticipated such a thing and had no plans that needed to be canceled.

Ian let go of her wrist. They sat down on the couch. Ian took her other hand in his gloved ones as he explained what father had told him earlier, "Five generations ago, two of the unfertilized eggs germinated. It was a mistake, in a sense. From that point forward, two parallel bloodlines existed: One the royal bloodline of succession, if you will, was destined to wield the Witchblade. The other bloodline was filled with a hunger and warrior spirit but destined never to find fulfillment."

"Cursed," Aras verified.

"Yes," he agreed. "Like the descendants of Cain…for their father is the darkness and not the light." Ian felt this made more sense why Dominique Boucher had been able to wear the Witchblade shortly after father had killed Elizabeth Bronte, because she was of the alternate bloodline. The Witchblade only discarded her, as father had put it, because it realized, after a few months, that she was not of the true line, but of the dark, alternate one.

"You're a liar," Aras accused in a hushed tone. "You're trying to destroy my mind. "

"You have a void inside of you," Ian justified. "Your own private piece of the abyss. You have never known peace, and you never will." In that manner, Aras was so much more like Ian than his fair Sara. Pity.

Aras moved closer to Ian. She grabbed Valentino's scimitar and put it to Ian's throat. Ian had procured the scimitar from Gabriel Bowman earlier that day. Perhaps, Ian had thought, possessing something used in "Son of the Sheik," a rather romantic, old movie, would help Ian to better understand these feelings of lust coursing through his veins since day one of laying eyes upon Sara.

"You're left-handed," Ian observed of Aras. "Your DNA and hers are identical, only Sara's spirals to the right."

"Either hand can kill," Aras stated matter-of-factly.

"Go ahead – death has been waiting for me like a glove with no hand in it." Ian had his own void inside of him he longed to fill, either with Sara's acceptance of his feelings for her, or with his own death.

Aras chuckled. "I'd kill you in a second but you don't mean anything. I wanna find out where this Sara is."

Aras violently stabbed the nearby candle with the scimitar, extinguishing the flame. Ian grabbed the back of her head and moved her so that she was lying across his lap. 'So much like Sara,' he thought. 'So full of passion, although of a different sort. So beautiful. So…desirable.' He gazed at the same deep, green eyes like Sara's. The same flirty smile like Sara's. The same full, pouty, kissable lips like Sara's.

Aras caressed his head in return. She chuckled and beckoned him with her sparkling eyes and her devilish smirk to go ahead and kiss her like she knew he longed to. 

Ian succumbed. Until _his_ Sara realized she was _destined_ to be with him, he would suffice with knowing what it felt like to kiss her by doing so with this doppelganger. 

Aras felt so warm and more than willing in his arms. He knew father would gladly encourage a joining between her and Ian. She was of the bloodline, even if it was the alternate one. Ian was more than tempted to surrender to the lust and completely fulfill his fantasy with this evil copy of Sara. He now had an idea of what it would be like to kiss her. He debated whether he should yield, as well, and discover what her bare flesh felt like pressed against his.

Ian thought on his many years of discipline and training for his answer. He somewhat regretfully pulled away from Aras.

"What's the matter?" Aras purred. 

Ian reasoned, "There are things more important than this to attend to."

"Oh, how noble of you," she chided. "Well," she whispered in his ear, her voice a throaty caress. "When I take care of Sara, who, by the way, you haven't told me about yet, maybe I can persuade you to pick up where we've left off."

*************

For reasons Ian still couldn't understand, Aras had donned her still bloodstained sweatshirt, always worn when fighting in the Spartacus Ring, before she called Sara. After Ian had explained to her just who Sara was, along with the Witchblade itself, Aras' eyes lit up at the thought of just how to confront this other woman.

"Hello, Wielder," Aras smirked when Sara answered. Although Ian could only hear Aras' side of the conversation, he knew Sara well and long enough to assume what her replies to Aras were.

"Oh," he heard her explain to Sara who she was. "Your palendromic nemesis. Your naughty, naughty doppelganger. Basically, your worst nightmare, ever."

She explained to Sara what she wanted, "I want to see your…or _my_ face as I crush it. See," Aras apparently had something in mind for Sara. "The championship fight is still on tonight. Only the stakes are much higher than a hundred thou."

"Got it." Ian assumed by the evil grin on Aras' face that Sara realized who she really was. Pagan. Aras continued, "See, if I win, I get your pretty little bracelet. And, if you win, you get your pretty little comatose friend, Conchobar."

Aras put the phone down once Sara hung up. She turned to Ian and instructed him, "Be a dear and get that Irish log. Bring him with you to where we agreed to meet. Think you can do that?"

"Of course, Aras," Ian answered. He turned and left to retrieve Conchobar from the hospital, as Sara's incentive to fight Aras.

**************

From the shadows, Ian could see everything. He had placed Conchobar where Aras wanted him and hid with her before Sara arrived.

Shortly after, Sara came sprinting in. She stopped when she saw her new, yet old, Irish friend draped across some crates. Aras grinned at the thought of what was in store for the wielder. She emerged from the shadows to stop Sara from simply taking Conchobar and leaving before Aras could have her fun.

"He's still in a coma," Aras informed her double.

"Are…are you my sister?" Sara asked. She couldn't get over the resemblance.

"Humph," Aras miffed. "Honey, genealogy is _so_ boring." She gloated, "I'm the next wielder of the Witchblade. If you live, you can ask your friend, Ian, to explain to you who I am."

"W -- we don't have to do this."

"Oh, yes we do," Aras drawled out sarcastically. "But," she added, "not in the way that you think."

Aras turned and aimed her gun at Conchobar. 

"Give me your pretty bracelet, eh?"

Sara didn't move, didn't say a thing. She wasn't sure what to do.

"Uh," Aras mocked when Sara did nothing. She fired at the limp body, hitting him in the side. Sara gasped.

"He can't even feel it." Aras was starting to enjoy this. A little too much, Ian felt.

"O – Ok. Ok."

Sara removed the Witchblade from her wrist. "Ok?" she asked, the bracelet in her hand.

Sara tossed it into the air. Either she was being dramatic about turning over the Witchblade or she was up to something.

Ian discovered quickly which it was. As Aras looked up to the Witchblade, flying in the air, Sara pulled out her gun and shot Aras in the knee.

"Ah!" Aras cried out as she went down to the concrete. The Witchblade fell shortly after, just out of Aras' reach. She tried to grab it, only to feel Sara's boot crush her hand. Sara reholstered her gun

"Your ambition exceeds your grasp."

Sara bent down to pick the blade back up and tossed it into the air again. This time, her hand was outreached, waiting for the blade to return to her wrist. She willed it to morph to sword form and aimed it at Aras.

"Who are you?" Sara inquired of her double.

It was time for Ian to end this. He stepped out from the shadows.

"Aras," he explained. "She's of your bloodline. She's a replicate of you."

"Yeah?" She stared hard at the double before her. "Not anymore."

"Sara, don't," he warned.

"Or what?" Sara challenged.

"She's of your bloodline," Ian reminded her. "The Witchblade can't hurt her."

"Well, maybe this will work."

Sara pointed the sword at Ian instead and pulled her gun back out at Aras. Ian pulled out the scimitar and slowly moved towards Aras.

"If you kill her, I'll kill you," he warned.

"I'm all a quiver, Ian."

"You must take your friend to the hospital, and I'll tend to her." That was all Ian wanted. He preferred that Sara keep the Witchblade, for now. Regardless of what father truly wanted, Ian would not kill if he did not have to.

"Or not," Sara countered, her gun still trained on Aras.

Ian turned to place the scimitar at Conchobar. If threatening to take her life would not work, perhaps the life of her friend would.

"Trade?" he asked Sara. He looked over his shoulder to see her reaction and answer, hoping she would realize the sensible choice.

Sara stood there, stunned. She didn't want to lose someone else. Twice. Again. She realized that since she now knew of Aras, she would be more alert and could deal with the double another day. Right now, her real concern was for Conchobar. 

Sara willed the Witchblade back to bracelet form. She reholstered her gun and warned Ian, "You win, for now. This doesn't mean I understand any of this or that I'm willing to let _her_ kill _me_ like you and I both know she would."

Ian nodded in agreement, "I understand perfectly, Sara. But this is what needs to be, for the moment."

Ian carried Aras and Sara the comatose Conchobar. 

Side by side. 

In silence.

END


End file.
